Sherlock Holmes and the Barber on Fleet Street
by Inked Bandit
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has finally met an adversary probably as mad as him. Will he be able to solve this mystery, or will he become another meat pie?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've never seen the whole Sweeney Todd movie so don't kill me if I get this all wrong, but keep in mind it's just a fanfic. Note the prolog is written in narrative form so it might suck. Scratch that this whole thing might suck, but if it does, oh well.

Disclaimer: I didn't do it.

Sherlock Holmes

And the

Barber on Fleet Street

Prolog

Poor Mr. Tailor

London 1846 was a year no one would forget, for this was the year where two great minds met. Normally when this happens it's a minor thing, they either get along quite well or not at all. But these two minds where so alike and yet so different that London would never be the same again. It started in November the 6th, when Mrs. Tailor sent her husband off to get a much needed hair cut.

He walked to the barber shop oblivious to what was to happen. After all it was just a hair cut nothing more could be expected of this. He walked down Fleet Street and into the barber shop. The barber, Mr. Todd, turned and smiled. Now any one who looked closely could tell there was something off about that smile, but Mr. Tailor just wanted a hair cut to get his wife to stop nagging him about it. And unfortunately Mr. Tailor had made it just in time before the shop closed, to be the last unlucky costumer

Mr. Todd said, "Take a seat sir." So Mr. Tailor did. Now there was a point where Mr. Tailor thought something wasn't quiet right. Perhaps it was the faint smell of rotting flesh in the room, or the small crimson stain on Mr. Todd's shirt. But poor Mr. Tailor didn't see these things, for he was not an observant man. No, Mr. Tailor thought nothing of these things until Sweeney Todd razor cut a little too deep. Mr. Tailor only had a few seconds to know something was wrong . Besides the sudden slash of pain in his throat the only other thing could comprehend was that Mr. Todd pulled the lever on that chair, and it flew back just a little too far.

The fall of the basement was brief for him, but he did not suffer long. The fall broke his neck and immediately he died. The barber smiled running his hand threw his wild black hair.

"I have a feeling Mr. Tailor will make a delicious meat pie." He said, with that he closed his shop and went to bed with no regrets.

Later that evening, Mrs. Tailor, was still awake. She had not thought her husband would be so late. She stood by the stove brewing some tea, thinking about where her husband could be.

"Probably with another woman." She said bitterly to herself.

"Or gambling all our money," she said.

Mrs. Tailor went to sleep with bitter thoughts in her head, not a moment did she think her husband could be dead. A day passed and she began to wonder if he was coming back at all. Finally she called the inspector, the inspector and his men were stumped almost immediately. With no body, and Mr. Todd unsuspected the inspector had gotten nowhere. Another day past and so far the inspector and his men had question everyone including Mr. Todd.

Not once did he suspect him, in fact he rather liked the fellow. Chatting as if they were old friends, Mr. Todd suggested they stop by Mrs. Lovett's shop for her famous meat pie. The inspector took that suggestion and stopped by the shop, and had the best meat pie he had ever had. So the inspector went home back to his wife and family, and promised them a pie from Mrs. Lovett's shop.

Mrs. Tailor was angry to say the lest. She complained how the inspectors ate pie instead of trying to find her lost husband to her friends. When one of her friends suggested that she should try a detective, Mrs. Tailor thought it was worth a try. So she got on a carriage and rode to Baker Street, and walk up the steps to the address of 221B.

A/N: So… yeah I was bored. And this took me twenty minute to do.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I got bored

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Chapter I

An Ego Too Big

Watson

Holmes was in a depressing mood today, actually all week would be more precise. It was sad really, his mind had to be occupied at all times other wise he would go off doing some dreadful experiment on poor Gladstone. That dog had probably more chemicals in him then Holmes himself. However, when Gladstone was past out from the experiments Holmes put him through, Holmes looked for other ways to entertain himself. It was either a rather odd experiment that had no meaning at all but would have him occupied for days or weeks on end. Or the experiments that were loud and destructive. Unfortunately he had been more drawn to the destructive ones lately.

"BANG!!" The sound of glass shattering, I had a feeling this would not sit well with our landlady, Mrs. Hudson.

"What on earth is he doing know!" Sure enough it didn't sit well with her. Mrs. Hudson walked up the stairs, but she wasn't alone. Following her was a short, thin women well in her fifties. My eyes widened when I realized she was a customer for Mr. Holmes. She was holding a piece of paper in her hand with his address. Well this wasn't good, Holmes would be a mess knowing him and most likely drunk. That wouldn't be good for business.

"Dr. Watson, this is Mrs. Tailor. She's here to see Mr. Holmes," Mrs. Hudson said.

"Yes, well let me just see if he can come down." I said looking over at Mrs. Hudson then back at Mrs. Tailor. The landlady got the message.

"Bang!!" More glass shattered.

"What was that?" Mrs. Tailor asked a bit frightened by the blast.

"Why don't we head down to the kitchen, and I'll brew us some tea." Mrs. Hudson said trying to distract the woman from the insanity Holmes was causing up stairs. Once the ladies where down stairs I hurried up to the 'study' of Sherlock Holmes, it was more of a rats nest really, hoping he would not cause another blast. I opened the door to find Holmes changing the bullets in his revolver to shoot another plate of glass hanging on the wall.

"Holmes!" I yelled.

"Yes, Watson," he said firing the revolver at the glass.

"What are you doing?" I asked almost not wanting to know.

"Simple Watson, I'm trying to create a strong, yet light, transparent material. So far it hasn't been working so well." Holmes said putting the revolver down on a cluttered table, of which the surface could not be seen it had so many miscellaneous things on it. It was amazing he got anything done in this room.

"Alright Holmes get yourself cleaned up we got another case." I said pulling the long, heavy, scarlet drapes open. Holmes held his hand up to block the light from his face.

"Fine just don't pull open anymore curtains," he grumbled.

"You have five minutes," I said walking back down stairs. I walked into the kitchen to see the woman crying, and Mrs. Hudson patting her back. I backed out of the kitchen to give the two ladies there space.

"Pies I tell you, pies! More important then finding my own Husband," she sobbed.

"Oh dear Mrs. Tailor, I'm so sorry for your loss. I pray your husband is still alright." Mrs. Hudson said, sadly, this wasn't likely. Unless Mr. Tailor has a horrible since of direction, he was most likely lying in some shady part of London's sewer, or at the bottom of the river dead.

"Alright then what do we have here?" Holmes asked in a whisper walking up behind me. I looked at him to make sure he looked some what presentable, he was barely, but it would suffice.

"Apparently this poor woman lost her husband." I said in a low tone.

"She looks like she could start a fight with our own landlady for no reason at all, she has a temper that one," he whispered.

"How can you tell that?" I asked.

"Simple Watson, just look at the wrinkles between her brow, and along the sides of her mouth." Holmes said, I looked at him with doubt. Mrs. Tailor looked so dainty and small to be angry, and her voice seemed too high. Holmes rolled his eyes and walk into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

"Mrs. Hudson I'll take my tea no sugar though." He said as the tea pot began to whistle. I sat down as well, but I shock my head when Mrs. Hudson looked at me to see if I wanted any tea.

"Alright Mr. Holmes just please help Mrs. Tailor. She's had quite a hard time with the police already," Mrs. Hudson said.

"I do my best as always," Holmes said.

"Thank you Mr. Holmes." Mrs. Tailor said with what looked like a forced smile. This woman might have some rage in her.

"Mrs. Tailor I know your husband was last seen at the barber shop at seven P.M two days ago from the paper. Did you two have a fight before?" Holmes asked.

"Yes, he's a gambler you see, and I always have to be sure that he spends our money on what we need instead of gambling." She said the wrinkles between her brow becoming more prominent now.

"Well then, I think you should head back to your home and let the professionals handle this." Holmes said as Mrs. Hudson handed him his sugarless tea.

"Aren't you going to question me more?" Mrs. Tailor asked.

"No, I think I got all the information I need," Holmes said. This really displeased Mrs. Tailor, she got up from her seat.

"I sure hope you find him, I have doubts in you already." She said angrily.

"Well I'm glad to see your faith in me is so strong." Holmes said, the woman seemed on the brink of screaming in anger.

"Sorry, but I won't be able to stick around for tea." She said before storming out of the house. I sat in shock I could not believe Holmes did that. Well now actually with his social skills I can.

"What did I tell you," Holmes said.

"Dose that give you an excuse to act so rude?" I asked.

"To prove my point, yes, yes it does," he said.

"No, it does not."

"It worked, so it does."

"There's something incredibly not right about you," I said.

"Me? No it the rest of the world that's not right, I'm the one whose right here," Holmes said.

"Did it ever occur to that you could be wrong sometimes?" I asked.

"Yes a while ago," he said thinking about it.

"And…" I edged on.

"And I discovered that only two percent of the time I'm wrong," he said.

"Only two?" I asked.

"Watson I have a feeling you're beginning to doubt my sanity again,"

"No, Holmes you have no sanity there for I cannot doubt it. Your ego, however, is starting to get a little out of control." I said as Holmes sipped his tea, he wasn't listening to a word I was saying.

"Holmes, you've solved any conundrum that has crossed your path. But when you start to get to cocky that's when you start to miss things." Holmes was now looking threw the paper, and completely ignoring me now.

"Huh, that women caught another one in her trap," Holmes said reading an article.

"Who was the unlucky wealthy man who married Irene this time?" I asked with a sigh.

"Judge Turpin, she'll have him fooled with in a month." Holmes seemed a bit angered by this.

"Holmes it's just a game for her you do realize that don't you," I said.

"Course I do, now lets go on to Fleet Street where Mr. Tailor got his hair cut." Holmes said getting up and grabbing his wrinkled black trench coat.

"Don't get into any trouble you two," Mrs. Hudson said.

"So what did you discover about our client?" I asked catching up to Holmes.

"Simple she only wants her husband back so she can yell at him," Holmes said.

"Problems with their marriage?" I asked.

"Indeed, I'm guessing the man might have been seeing some one else," Holmes said.

"Well it just shows the consequences of being unfaithful," I said.

"Yes, but I think death is a bit of an extreme punishment for unfaithfulness won't you agree." I couldn't argue with that death was a bit extreme.

"So you suspect the wife did it don't you," I said.

"Not sure yet, but she does have a motive if she knew of her husbands whereabouts," he said.

"Alright any thing else I need to know," I asked.

"Well, true to her name Mrs. Tailor is indeed a tailor, I could tell from the calyces (Not sure if that's right) on her right forefinger" Holmes said.

"Oh good we can get her to sow up some of your old rags you call clothes," I said with a laugh.

"Haha, very funny," Holmes said blandly, "She lives near some sort of bakery, I could tell from that faint aroma," Holmes said.

"I herd there's a pie shop that has gotten quiet a lot of praise for their meet pies," I said.

"Never Liked that kind of pie," Holmes said.

"Why not, it's quiet good. Remember that one Mrs. Hudson cooked for you on your birth day last year?" I asked.

"Oh you mean the one I had to chock down with a smile and pretend I liked it," Holmes said bitterly,"Never doing that again."

"Holmes."

"Watson, in my opinion pies are pies. And pies, should be served at desert, not for the meal. Also, they should always be sweet and filled with a fruit filling none of that meat," Holmes said.

"Well aren't you picky," I said.

"I'm not picky I just have my standards. And pie made of meat is under my standards, therefore I will not eat it," Holmes said.

"What if your life depended on it?" I asked.

"What kind of a question is that Watson?"

"It's just a question, Holmes."

"Well to answer that question, no I wouldn't," he said.

"So you'd rather be killed then eat pie?" I asked not believing what he was saying.

"It's not pie it's meat shoved in doe to look like pie. And when an unsuspecting child sees it and takes a big bite expecting a sweet fruity filling, they'll get a mouth full of over salted meat," Holmes said. I had a feeling that was a true story.

"It's still pie Holmes," I said.

"I refuse to except that logic, it's a pie imposter nothing more nothing less."

"So you would rather die then eat meat pie?" I asked again.

"Yes," he said simply.

"But, why?" I asked.

"Because I have my standards," he said.

"And that's logical how?"

"Watson, the fact is I'm never going to have to choose between meat pie and my life, so let's just drop this question while we're ahead," he said.

We had reached Fleet Street already. It was not the richest or poorest of places, nor the most dangerous, but evil things sometimes happen in the most unsuspected places. Soon we reached the barber shop Mr. Tailor was last seen. I opened the door.


	3. Chapter 3

A/n: I do not know weather to go into other povs or stick to Watson's.

Disclaimer: I do not own it

**First Encounter **

**Sherlock Holmes**

The stairs creaked with each step I took, below I could smell the famous pies growing in Mrs. Lovett's shop. Something was strange about that smell, was it cat? Horse? Perhaps dog? No, that was strange I normally knew all sorts of ingredients by smell. I stopped on the eighth step.

"Something troubling you?" Watson asked as he looked to see why I had stopped.

"Nothing, Watson," I said hurrying up the stairs.

Watson was already in the small barber shop above Mrs. Lovett's meat shop. I closed the old door which matched the stairs as it also creaked and squeaked till it was closed. The shop was nothing special, in fact it looked like it had just been cleaned. The dull, gray, wooden floor seemed to shin and small puddles formed in the creases of the wood. The window looked as though it had completely been ignored compared to the floor. The dust and smudges looked as though is had been months since it had seen a cleaning rag. This left the room rather dark looking. The single chair in the room looked sleek and black it didn't look like a barber chair though, instead it looked as if some adjustments were made to equip it for it's current task. A cracked mirror hung on the wall opposite from the window. Well that's not very professional.

"Mr. Todd?" Watson said raising his voice, there was no response. I continued to look around at the cobwebs on the wall. That rarely made since to clean the floor before dusting.

"Well it's official," Watson said.

"What?" I asked.

"He's the second messiest person I've known," Watson said sweeping up dust off the vanity with his finger.

"And whose the first Watson?" I asked.

"You," Watson said simply as he peered out the slanted window.

"I'm not a mess," I said.

"Then what do you call the rat's nest you live in?" Watson asked.

"It's not a rat's nest, it's a perfectly clean study, organized in a specific order of which was created by me," I said glancing at the floor again. I noticed something odd around the floor boards of the chair, it was almost as if it could be opened. However, before I had much time to observe this foot steps could be herd coming up the creaky stairs. The old door opened with a loud screech reveling a man holding a wash tub. The man looked up, his dark eyes surrounded by equally dark circles.

"Can I help you two gentlemen?" he asked in a rather grumpy sounding voice.

"Mr. Todd I presume?" Watson asked.

"That's me," Mr. Todd said setting the tub down on a table carefully, but the contents of the tub chimed as they were carried by the water which sloshed around.

"If you want a shave or a hair cut your going to have to wait till tomorrow," Todd said picking up a razor from the tub and drying it with such care as if the blade was his prized position. The handle wasn't simple as normally expected, the handle were made of chased silver and elaborate patterns where engraved upon it. The blade glistened even with the gray skies of London.

"Those razors are quit extraordinary," I said. Todd stopped his drying and raised the blade into the light.

"Yes, they are something," he said gazing at the blade almost adoringly. There was something off about him just then, the way he smiled at the blade like a partner in crime. Mr. Todd had seemed to have forgotten our presence all together, I looked back at Watson who only shrugged. I cleared my throat snapping Mr. Todd out of his trance. Todd glared at me as if I interfered with something before closing the blade.

"I see the handles are made with chase silver," I said, Todd merely nodded taking a black box from the table and placing the blade inside.

"Like I said, I'm not giving any hair cuts today," Todd said continuing to dry his blades.

"We're not here for a haircut," Watson said stepping forward his cane taping the wooden floor.

"Well then what you here for then?" Mr. Todd asked turning around to lean against the wall whilst drying another blade.

"It involves the disappearance of Mr. Tailor," Watson said Todd's eyes flickered up showing no hint of emotion I could use to interpret what he was thinking.

"I'm sorry I don't believe I know your names," Todd said pushing himself of the wall and placing the second knife in the black box.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes, and this is my colleague, Dr. John Watson," I said gesturing towards Watson. Mr. Todd's eyes glanced back and forth between Watson and me.

"Ah yes, Mr. Tailor," Mr. Todd said nonchalantly focusing his gaze back on his task.

"Yes, we were told he was last seen here," I said pacing the room.

"I told the inspector everything I know, so go ask him bout it," Todd said annoyed.

"I prefer to go to the source, not hear it second hand," I said picking up one of the bottles from the vanity.

"Put that down," Mr. Todd demanded.

"I'm simply investigating," I said with a shrug continuing to look at the bottles, but more importantly the strange trap door in the reflection of the mirror. Now what would a barber need that for? I continue to fiddle with the bottles of shaving cream, and other things.

"You have to forgive him, he rarely sees a barber shop, if ever that is," Watson said taking the bottle out of my hand and setting it back on the table. Todd was now watching us carefully.

"Mr. Todd did you know Mr. Tailor very well?" Watson asked.

"Not really," Todd said.

"So what did you know about him?" I asked.

"He wanted a shave," he said.

"And that's all?" Watson said.

"Yes, that's all I know about the mans personal life besides his name," Todd said.

"Did he say anything while he was here?" I asked.

"No, nothing really," Mr. Todd said.

"So, nothing happened," Watson said.

"No, nothing but a shave and that's it," Todd said.

"Do you know what direction he went afterwards," I asked.

"Towards the port I think," Mr. Todd said.

"How long have you been working here in this shop?" I asked curious of how long the barber had been here.

"Bout three weeks," Todd said. I had gathered all the information I needed from Mr. Todd, and was a bit annoyed by the glares he was giving me with that razor in his hand.

"Right then we'll be on our way," I said.

Watson was first out the door followed by me, we hurried away from the shop before saying anything. Before the shop was out of sight however, I looked back to see those dark eyes glaring down at me.

"Was it just me or did it feel like any moment Mr. Todd would slit our thoughts with those chase silver handled razors if we had lingered?" Watson asked.

"No it wasn't just you, Watson," I said.

"Alright then, nice to know I'm not the only one," Watson said looking back behind him by instinct.

"That man is hiding something isn't he," Watson said.

"Yes, no one washes the floors before dusting," I said.

"This coming from the expert of cleaning," Watson said with a laugh.

"Sarcasm I presume. However, Watson, you fail to realize that our landlady always dust the furniture before cleaning the floors. So tell me, why did Mr. Todd only clean the floors?" I asked, I already knew the answer but I wanted to make sure Watson was up to par.

"Well maybe because of the hair of his costumers on the floor," Watson said. True that could be the reason, but a good sweep would do that. It made since to wash the blades, but something wasn't right. The man was so quick to answer the questions about Mr. Tailor, like he had practiced before coming in.

"It really doesn't make any since," I said aloud.

"What doesn't?" Watson asked.

"The answers Mr. Todd gave us were so sudden and quick. Not to mention the answers themselves were quiet strange," I pondered.

"Yes, I did notice that. I can't imagine nothing was said during Mr. Tailors visit. There had to be some sort of small talk," Watson said.

"Then again, Mr. Todd doesn't seem like the one for small talk, or listening for that matter," Watson said," Well he at least could give us the general direction of where the poor fellow went."

"Did you notice the trap door under the barbers chair?" I asked.

"A trap door?" Watson asked confused.

**Sweeny Todd**

Looking out the slanted widow I could see Mr. Holmes and his Colleague walking away towards the port side. Holmes looked back, his eyes narrowed as he saw me through the window.

"Is he gone?" a light voice asked.

"Yes," I said turning to see Mrs. Lovett standing a little to close behind me, her red hair tied up in a messy bun.

"See told you it was a good idea to clean the floors," Mrs. Lovett said sitting down in the barber chair.

"You're lucky I found out what that Mrs. Tailor was up to. The inspector didn't think to look inside, if he did you'd be hanging in the gallows," Mrs. Lovett said triumphantly.

"I suppose I owe you a thank you," I said.

"Oh well you're welcome Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett said.

"I don't think we're out of the worst yet," I said looking back out the window, Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes were out of sight heading to the port side.

"Well as long as you tell the same story and don't contradict yourself you'll be fine," She said getting up and resting her hands on my shoulders. These weren't the hands I wanted. I wanted Joanna to be standing beside me, but she was gone, taken away by that Judge Turpin.

"You know that old Turpin fellow's got a new wife," Mrs. Lovett said picking up the paper and handing it to me. I looked to see him standing stiffly next to a woman in a white gown. Of course she was beautiful, like everything Judge Turpin had. But her eyes, something in her eyes did not show the happiness of a newly wedded bride. No, her eyes showed mischief.

"Names Irene Adler, she's an American that one," Mrs. Lovett continued all the while my thoughts thinking of different way to slit Turpin's throat.

"Herd that isn't her first marriage either, she's been married several times before," She said. That's when the idea popped into my head, why not have a little fun with Judge Turpin.

"I know that look," Mrs. Lovett said with a smile.

"Why not instead of killing Turpin right away, we make him suffer a little," I said, with a grin.

"How you going to get that woman in here?" Mrs. Lovett asked.

"Who said it had to be in the shop," I said.

A/N I edit this. Again. Probably still needs work though… oh well my dyslexic brain can't see it must be fine.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay so Irene is up to her old tricks again, let's see what she's up to. Sorry this took awhile I've been trying to finish an old fanfic up. And starting on other stuff…yeah so sorry bout that thanks for reading and reviewing. Also about fleet street being a poor area in London I'm not to sure on that either. So if any one knows about that please tell me the answer so I can fix it.

A Collar Too Tight

Irene

It was quite gray here on Fleet Street, nothing interesting happened here at all. Oh well, I'll soon be off with Turpin's money heading to India or maybe New York, depending on my mood, with in a month or so. Till then I had to play the part of the perfect, innocent wife. However this marriage was quiet different from previous ones, I had a step daughter now, Johanna. She was more like a ward instead of a daughter, but non the less she was an obstacle in my plan. Why? Well I felt sorry for her. As sick as it sounds, Turpin seems to like her more then just a ward. I would have been long gone from this marriage by now, but my pity for Johanna kept me here. I was fixing my hair up for the day when the door to my room opened. The sixteen year old girl walked in and sat in an arm chair.

"Hello Johanna," I said sticking a pin in my hair.

"Hello," she said in a mousy voice.

"Do you have any plans today?" I asked, the girl shook her head.

"Well why not?" I asked surly she had something to do besides read.

"Mr. Turpin doesn't allow me to go anywhere unless necessary," she said.

"Well what my husband doesn't know can't hurt him," I said with a smile as I finished my hair.

"Now then let's go," I said picking up my bag.

"But where," She asked.

"Why where ever you like, I hear that the opera has a good show this time of year," I said.

"So the opera then?" she asked.

"Well not in the morning, maybe in the afternoon. How about a look in the shops before hand?" I asked.

"Uh well, I really shouldn't," she said nervously.

"Listen, us girls have to break free from the rules sometimes. If we don't we'll end up having very boring lives," I said.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked I laughed.

"You know I used to think the same thing. While I was in the opera I always wanted to be a house wife, then I was. And to tell you the truth, it's quite boring," I said with a sigh.

"Well it doesn't sound so bad," she said shrugging.

"I suppose not, but my first husband never allowed me to do any thing. The second requested I cook, that marriage didn't last long. And the rest all did something to irritate me, but I pushed them out of my memory and forgot about it," I said heading for the door.

"Alright then let's go," I said leading the way out of the house. I opened the door reveling the busy streets of London, I looked back at Joanna to see her in awe.

"What? You've seen the streets of London from your window," I said.

"Yes, but I never thought that I would actually get the chance to be a part of the busy life down here," she said.

"Well then too bad you won't be able to go then," Turpin said behind me shutting the door.

"Darling, don't you think it's harsh to keep our ward locked up in this house?" I asked, the word 'darling' leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

"Our ward?" Turpin asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, our ward," I said.

"Do not assume that just because you are my wife that you also her guardian," Turpin said, anger was rising in his voice.

"Just for once can you let her out of this place?" I asked trying to keep my tone soft and innocent.

"No," he said.

"But-" he cut me off.

"You are my wife therefore you shall not question me," he said.

"My lord, you are wanted at the court house," that rotten Beadle Bamford said walking into the room.

"Very well, make sure my wife and ward stay in their proper place," He said walking out of the house. I can't believe I got myself into this. Oh wait, yes I can, he's rich and I'm greedy simple as that.

I rolled my eyes, and shoved the little beetle out of the way so I could get through the door. I walked out side past Turpin and into the streets. I turned around to see a Turpin glaring at me as he entered the carriage. I smiled and gave him a wink. I wasn't one to be controlled.

**Mrs. Lovett**

Mr. T was in a bad mood he was, must have been that Holmes fellow that came in earlier this morning. At least I'll have more supplies for pies, but Mr. T's gotta be more careful. After the Mr. Tailor incident I would rather he keep the killing spree on the low for awhile. I herd the door from the barber shop open, and close, I leaned over the counter to see if Mr. T was coming down. I was surprised to see that it was the young gentleman who had gone in about half an hour ago for a shave. Guess Mr. T got the message from that little visit this morning. The man looked up at me and smiled.

"Have a nice day Mrs. Lovett, I'll be sure to try one of your pies next time I come around," He said.

"Well why don't you have one now?" I asked.

The man frowned, "I better go, the misses is a bit nervous with me going out with that killer on the loose."

"Probably right, you have a nice day now," I said as the man walked out the door. I went back to working on my pies. Mr. Tailor still wasn't completely gone, but I probably only had enough for the week. I herd the bell above the shop door ring as it opened. I looked up to see the devils wife herself, Irene Turpin.

I forced a smile, "Hello Mrs. Turpin."

She looked up and returned the smile, "Hello Mrs. Lovett, I've come to try one of your famous pies," she said.

"A wealthy woman such as yourself? I'm honored," I said.

"Well, you make the best pies so I should be the honored one," she said taking a seat.

"So I take it you'll have the meat pie then?" I asked.

"Yes, and may I please have some tea with that?" she asked.

"Of course," I said.

"Thank you, oh and no sugar for my tea please," she said. I smiled and then walked back into the kitchen. I was surprised to see Mr. T standing right in front of me holding the kettle.

"Is that her?" he asked, I nodded.

A dark smile formed across his face, "I say we kill her."

"You want to kill her now?" I whispered.

"Why shouldn't we?" he asked.

"I doubt she's gonna want a shave while she waits for her tea," I said filling the kettle with water, and placing it on the stove.

"I was thinking a less messy way this time," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Poison." He said simply.

My eyes widened, "But Mr. T, we couldn't use her for pies if we did that."

"I'll get more for your pies, but this is an opportunity we cannot pass," he said.

I sighed, "Very well then, I'll take care of this one."

"Do you have what you need?" he asked.

"Arsenic will do, I'll put it in the pie though, she might notice it in her tea," I said. Mr. T nodded before heading back up stairs. I quickly prepared the pie, and with an unsteady hand put the arsenic in. I jumped when the kettle began to whistle. I took it off the stove and fixed the tea with no sugar. I carried the pie and the tea out the door and set it on the table for Mrs. Turpin.

"There you go," I said.

Mrs. Turpin gave me a look, "Are you feeling alright? You seem a bit uneasy," she said.

"Oh just over worked that's all," I said.

I watch Mrs. Turpin drink her tea. As she set the cup down and picked up the fork my heart began to race. It seemed like she was taking her time with getting the first bite. I nearly sighed with relief, when the door flew open. In rushed Toby followed by a rather large dog. The dog jumped up on the table and started gobbling the pie down. Mrs. Turpin dropped her fork and got out of her seat.

"Toby!" I yelled.

"What Mrs. Lovett?" he asked as he took one of the cookies from the counter.

"Get this dog out now!" I yelled.

Toby nodded and nudged the dog away from the pie, and off the table. Then he took him by the scruff of his neck and led him out of the shop.

"I'm so sorry Mrs. Turpin I'll get you another one," I said, but she shook her head.

"It looks like you need a break. I'll come again next week. Possibly with my husband," she said.

I nodded and smiled, "Alright then, see you next week."

Mrs. Turpin left, and shortly after Toby ran back in.

"He's dead, he's dead!" he said though the sobs.

"Who's dead?" I asked kneeling down.

"The dog, he just fell down and died," He said as he hugged me. I sighed and patted him on the back.

"There, there," I said, "It'll be alright."

A/N: I don't know the effects of Arsenic. I'm just sayin.


End file.
